


Steel Your Heart

by AndyAO3



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Dorian isn't sure what to make of him, Drabbles, Gen, M/M, Spoilers, Zach is a precious baby, except that he's too good a person for all this shit to be happening to
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:14:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndyAO3/pseuds/AndyAO3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faith in oneself is a fragile thing.</p><p>Dragon Age: Inquisition drabbles. Will add to them as I play and as the ideas come to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steel Your Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I know it seems like I haven't written in a while, but TBH I've been RPing in WoW quite a bit more than I've been writing independently. 
> 
> ...so yes, I haven't really written in a while. But hey, have a thing anyway. It's short and sweet and sad (just watch, I'll forget this exists and never add to it or something).

_The night is long, and the path is dark_   
_Look to the sky, for one day soon_   
_The dawn will come_

 

Haven. By all that was holy, _Haven_. It hadn't been a battle, not in any sense of the word that Dorian knew. If it hadn't been for Lavellan, they would all be dead. That man - that _elf_ \- had saved them. He'd been willing to give his own life just to buy everyone a few moments.

Dorian had seen the look in the warrior's eyes as he'd told them to run, however; it was the look of a man who had seen too many die because of his own perceived failures. That look haunted the Tevinter mage long after the fact. It told him that the Herald was a good man, the sort that would put the burdens of others upon his own shoulders until it broke him, blaming only himself afterwards for having cracked with all the strain.

When they had found the man collapsed in the snow, battered and half-frozen, Dorian had scarcely been able to believe it. Cullen's men, along with Cassandra, had found him. The Iron Bull had carried him back and placed him in a tent, where healers had seen to him. And as the general, the ambassador, the spymaster and the Seeker all argued, their voices steadily increasing in volume as discretion gave way to anger, Dorian still kept his distance.

Then, the elven man stepped out of the tent, his lanky form outlined by the light of a hundred campfires that burned in stubborn defiance of the bitter cold. A hush fell over the arguing advisors as they noticed him. From where he stood, Dorian could not see the man's face, but judging by the way the rest had gone silent - as well as the Herald's defeated posture - it was something Not Good.

The tent opened up again, and this time it was Mother Giselle who emerged. She started _singing_.

Leliana joined in.

Then some others - merchants, soldiers, workers - joined in as well. People. Then _Cullen_. Soon, most of the Inquisition was singing.

It was a song that Dorian had never heard, but the southerners seemed to know it. Probably something to do with their faith, if he had to guess. Lavellan probably didn't appreciate that; when the two of them had last had the chance to speak at length, Dorian had discovered that even he had more faith in the Maker than the Herald did.

Except when he looked again, what he saw made him do a double-take. Because the elven man had lifted his head, and... maybe it was a trick of the fires' flickering light, but Dorian could swear that it looked like there were tears in his eyes. Every single person that Zach Lavellan had saved believed in him, even if he didn't believe in himself.

Dorian hoped that would be enough for the man to find it in him to forgive himself.


End file.
